


In Which Angelica Is Triumphant

by OlwenDylluan



Series: It Cannot Be Taken From You [16]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Growing Up is Hard, Kedreeva's Wiggleverse, does it count as kid fit if the kids are snakes but so is one of the parents?, parenting is hard, snabies!omens, snek!babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenDylluan/pseuds/OlwenDylluan
Summary: “What do you think you’re doing?” he said.“I… couldn’t sleep?” she said.“Try again, darling.”Angelica sighed. She coughed a bit and cleared her throat.“I was practicing.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: It Cannot Be Taken From You [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602421
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85
Collections: Wiggleverse





	In Which Angelica Is Triumphant

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel/third act to what took place in In Which Instincts Kick In, [Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151866) and [Part 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447375). It takes place a few months later.
> 
> It’s quoted at the beginning of In Which Instincts Kick In Part 1, but you can read Jesliness’s [Snake Room, or Snoom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121681) to catch the reference that started this chain of thought.
> 
> CW: Implied eating of a fuzzy creature by a snek.

Angelica brushed past Aziraphale on her way through the kitchen to wash up for dinner. He glanced at her as she vanished into the hallway and made a thoughtful sound. 

“What?” Crowley said, piling rolls in the breadbasket. He placed it in the table as Junior thundered in, Clem over one shoulder and Datura over the other. He threw himself into a chair and grabbed two rolls, cramming one into his mouth and tossing the other into the air. In the blink of an eye Datura had launched from his shoulder and taken human form, reaching to snatch the roll out of the air before it fell to the floor. They fell over their chair.

“Don’t _do_ that,” they complained. “You know I hate changing that fast.”

Clem was gliding heavily to the chair next to Junior’s, taking his place neatly while his two siblings bickered through mouthfuls of bread.

“Angel?” Crowley said. Aziraphale blinked, and shook his head a bit to clear it. 

“Angelica,” he said, his words ignored by their arguing progeny. “She’s been spending a lot of time out in the woods, coming back all smudged and scraped with leaves and twigs in her hair.”

“Fresh air. Keeps her out of trouble.” Crowley took the jug of milk from the refrigerator and began pouring glasses of it.

Aziraphale _hmmed_ absently, and Crowley yelled for Rosa to find a bookmark and join them at table.

Late at night--or early in the morning, he could never quite put his finger on when the designation changed--while sitting in bed reading, Crowley asleep next to him, Aziraphale heard a soft scraping noise in the kitchen. He lifted his head and took off his glasses, listening harder. The kitchen door closed very, very quietly.

The cottage and environs were warded extremely well, and none of the alarms were going off; this almost certainly wasn’t an intruder. Which meant it was one of the children.

Leaving Crowley to sleep, Aziraphale slipped out from under the covers and stepped noiselessly out of the bedroom and down the hall. He paused in the kitchen doorway.

Angelica was bent over, untying her trainers in the dim light. He could clearly see the tangle that was her hair, hair that had been tidily brushed and plaited loosely before bed by Datura, one of the many nightly rituals the children had developed among themselves. She was wearing a heavy cardigan over her jammies.

She straightened up, shoes in hand, and turned to take them to the front door where they usually resided. She froze, her eyes wide and fixed on Aziraphale.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“I… couldn’t sleep?” she said.

“Try again, darling.”

Angelica sighed. She coughed a bit and cleared her throat.

“I was practicing.”

“Practicing?” Aziraphale blinked. “Whatever are you practicing?”

“I….” She sighed again. “Azirafather, can it be a surprise?”

“A good surprise?” he said. “Or are we discussing something that might be a bad surprise that would cause me to regret giving you a bye?”

She flashed him a grin.

“Please, Azirafather?”

He looked at her, fondness warring with parental sternness. 

“I can’t have you sneaking out at night, my darling,” he said. “Quite apart from the regular dangers of unseen rabbit holes to break your ankle in and getting lost, young children ought not be out and about by themselves at any hour, let alone the midst of the night.”

Angelica looked as if she were working her jaw.

“I know you are very fast, and very good at hiding, as well,” he said. “But Angelica, this cannot happen.”

Brow furrowed, Angelica brought a hand up to her mouth and covered it. Aziraphale blinked.

“Are you quite all right, my dear?”

“Oh yes,” Angelica said, her voice slightly muffled. “Pip pip.”

Aziraphale shook his finger at her.

“That’s enough out of you,” he said with a smile. Angelica giggled behind her hand, then cleared her throat again.

“Off to bed, darling girl.”

Angelica nodded. He stepped aside so she could move past him, trainers in one hand, other still over her mouth.

“I need you to promise me,” he added softly. She paused, an indistinct shape in the darkness of the hallway. She sighed, then said quietly, “I promise, Azirafather.”

“Thank you.” He waited a beat, then said, “I’m trusting you, darling.”

He saw her nod.

“I think…” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “I think I’ll be all right from now on, Azirafather. For a while, at least,” she added, then vanished with her trainers.

  
  


The coffee was ready when Crowley came into the kitchen the next morning, yawning and stretching.

“Morning, angel,” he said, dropping a kiss on the top of Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale murmured a greeting as he turned a page in his book, then reached for his half-eaten piece of toast and jam.

“Looks like a good one,” Crowley added as he looked out the kitchen window, pouring his coffee without needing to watch what he was doing. “I'm going to go check on the garden.”

Aziraphale murmured something again, putting down his toast and reaching for his cup of tea. Crowley opened the back door and stepped out onto the flagstones in his bare feet. Aziraphale heard him inhale deeply, drawing the fresh morning air into his lungs.

And then he heard Crowley choke. Aziraphale was on his feet before Crowley started to cough.

“Crowley, what is it? Are you all right?” he said.

“Where,” the demon wheezed, “did that come from?”

On the flagstones further along the path was a smear of blood and what looked like a strip of dark matted fur.

“A fox or some such thing left it, I expect,” Aziraphale said. “Laid out rather tidily, actually. Why?”

“It’s--it’s a--” Aziraphale realized that Crowley’s coughing wasn’t coughing, really; he was gasping between rusty barks of laughter.

“Crowley, whatever--” 

“Angelica!” Crowley shouted. He handed Aziraphale his cup of coffee and bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, trying to compose himself. He managed to be upright with arms crossed, drawn up to his full height, looking disapproving when Angelica appeared in the kitchen, looking cautiously through the doorway, rubbing a sleepy eye with a fist.

“What did I tell you?” he said. Aziraphale looked from Crowley to their daughter, knowing he was missing something, some key piece of information that would clarify the situation.

Angelica’s face creased in a very small, very satisfied grin.

“I told you to _not_ do it.”

Angelica’s grin grew more intense.

“And you _deliberately_ \--”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, feeling slightly desperate. “I can see this is a serious matter, and I would appreciate knowing what the--”

“But Father,” Angelica said, the grin breaking into a gleeful smile, “ _I did it._ ”

Crowley held the disapproving parent pose for a fraction of a second longer before whooping and grabbing Angelica, lifting her up into the air as he whirled her around.

“You ridiculous child,” he said. “I told you they were more trouble than they were worth.”

“It was hard,” she admitted. “They’re really fast, and they use trees.”

“And?”

“I got fur stuck in my teeth,” she admitted, giggling. Crowley laughed at her.

“I still don't know what is happening,” Aziraphale said, irked. Crowley turned to him, Angelica braced against his hip.

“Tell Azirafather,” Crowley said, his pride evident.

Angelica hid her face in Crowley’s shoulder, still giggling.

“She,” Crowley said with relish, “caught a bloody _squirrel_.”

Aziraphale blinked. 

“I’m sorry, darlings. I… I fail to see the pertinence.”

“Oh, come on, angel,” Crowley groaned, letting his head fall back in an exaggerated sigh. “Our delightful spawn here was told to leave squirrels alone, that they were not at all worth the effort, because they’re too tricky to catch and the eating isn't good enough to merit the energy expended.”

“So she… disobeyed?”

“Yes!”

“And… you’re pleased, because this is proper demonic behaviour?”

“Well, there’s an element of that to it, yes,” Crowley said, chucking their daughter under her chin. “Good girl. Or rather, bad girl.”

“An element? Crowley, you’ll need to do better than that, please.”

“Our girl,” Crowley said, bringing his face up to hers and rubbing his nose against her own freckled one, “brought down a squirrel. A fast, ridiculously hard prey for a mostly land-based snake to catch.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he finally understood.

“Oh! Oh, then! Well done, Angelica!”

Angelica’s cheeks flushed, but she looked very proud.

“This is what you were doing last night,” Aziraphale said. Angelica nodded proudly. “And you….”

“Left the tail on the garden path for Father to find,” she said, and laughed.

“Best morning present I’ve ever found,” he said, then let her slide to the ground. “Off you go, spitfire.”

Angelica skipped back inside. Crowley took his coffee back from Aziraphale, chuckling, and sipped.

“Squirrel,” he muttered and walked over to the smear on the path. He bent over and picked up the matt of fur.

“What are you doing with it?” Aziraphale said, curious.

“Going to hang it up to dry in the greenhouse.” Crowley shook it out, examining it while he took another mouthful of coffee. “This is one for the baby book.”

**Author's Note:**

> This situation is actually what started this three-part story. I read Jeslie's bit about Crowley warning Angelica to not try for a squirrel, and I instantly knew that at some point, later in their cottage life, she was going to present him with a squirrel tail. XD


End file.
